Opening Eyes
by Rel
Summary: Needing someone can be hard... KurtOroro


Oooh yes. I've been away….such is RL, sorry!! Anyway here's a little kuroro snippet for you to enjoy. It started as a drabble but spiralled monstrously out of control….

Disclaimer: I don't own them…I only own this!

Opening Eyes

They often sat together in the afternoons and evenings, sometimes in her room, sometimes in his and more often than not in the large conservatory attached to the main building.

Ororo loved it here, loved the delicious familiar warmth and having her beloved plants around her. It had always, she told him, been her private sanctum. Her place to escape too.

When he'd asked tentatively if she didn't mind he'd 'invaded' that sanctum she'd laughed quietly and pressed a burning kiss to his cheek.

Now they sat as they did most evenings, too close together for decorum and talked in the low whispers used only by lovers and thieves.

Yet they were not what they wildfire scandal of the school rumour mill made them out to be, he had never even kissed her. There were other things though, things he knew he shouldn't dwell on- the touches she would bestow on him and no one else, how she would press his hand as she leaned in to tell him something important to how she stroked his cheek when he said something to make her smile. These things would drive him crazy if he let them.

They were friends, close friends. But he wanted to be more…wanted it with a desire as certain as the knowledge that it could never be. Too much stood between them.

She finished her account of the day with a weary smile, drumming her fingers on the side of the metal watering can.

John's empty seat was tormenting her, she confided, the lack of his presence almost palpable. All the students felt it too…you could see them stealing looks at his vacant place all throughout the class. It hurt, his defection hurt.

Turning away, she again became absorbed in her plants and he took the chance to stare at her, allowed himself once again to be moved be her loveliness. She was surreally beautiful with hair that fell in rippling white waves and swayed a little as she walked to the plants furthest from them. It fascinated him, her hair. It was such a pure colour, softer than anything he'd ever felt before- he remembered from when it had brushed the back of his hand as he had touched her cheek. A slight blush crept over him at the memory, a vague wonderment that at that time he had found the courage to do such a thing.

She'd come to him while he was praying, lowered herself down beside him and observed him with a touching expression of fascination.

He'd expected her to leave after that but she'd instead begun to talk. About him, about his scars. About his faith. The anger and hatred in her had been so obvious; he'd felt such pity for this perfect tormented woman.

He'd reached out for her, stroking her cheek in a gesture that was at once both comforting and terribly personal. It was obvious he'd not only overstepped the invisible boundary she placed around herself, he was miles passed it. He hadn't meant to tell her what he had next but the fact she hadn't moved away and the beautifully bewildered look on her face had spurred him on

"Someone so beautiful should not be so angry."

Her vivid, darkly blue eyes showed a glimmer of what might have been sorrow, a sudden flash of hurt and pain and…a strange longing that humanised the angel. A longing for what he didn't know, nor for the sake of his sanity would he begin to speculate on.

"Sometimes anger can help you survive."

"So can faith."

She'd opened her mouth as if to speak then but no words came out and she had simply stared at him- not with the mingled curiosity and revulsion he was used to but with a look of confusion and a strange need.

He fought the urge to reach out and enfold her in his arms, stroke that amazing hair and whisper words of comfort to her.

The interruption that came then was at once both welcome and highly unwanted. Miss Grey had found an active comm. device and Storm's attention was returned to the business at hand. Yet even when she was talking to Jean her eyes barely left his face for a moment. It was almost as if she didn't want to let go of the moment.

Afterwards he had often wondered what might have happened had they not been called then, what she might have said. 

But it was impossible to know and the lost opportunity often tormented him.

Later when he had teleported them into Cerebro, when he'd held her deceptively delicate body wrapped in his arms and for a brief moment in time she'd been his to protect he'd told himself he would find a way to make this woman hope again.

Since then they had become almost inseparable…partly, he knew, because she was looking for a replacement for Jean, using him to try and fill the emptiness left by her best friend. To try and destroy the pain of the loss she refused to mourn. 

"Kurt?"

Her voice broke him from his reverie and he flushed again with embarrassment.

"_Was?_ Sorry I was not listening, please say again?"

"I asked if you had heard anything about the President pardoning you yet."

"_Nein_ unfortunately not."

For a moment she was so quiet and still she seemed to be a carved ebony statue- stern and strained yet inexpressibly beautiful.

"They will pardon you Kurt."

She said it as if she might compel them to by sheer force of will alone, her hand tightening almost painfully on his shoulder. Her anger bubbled as close to the surface as it had done at Alkali Lake- not anger for herself this time but anger for him, anger on his behalf.

He wished with all his heart they would forgive him his 'crime' if only so he need not see her face so contorted by pointless rage. Covering the hand on his shoulder with his own he sighed and looked away from her, around the conservatory.

"I hope so, _meine leibe, _I hope so."

When he looked back she had turned away, towards the window and the lovely angles of her face were thrown into shadow.

"If they pardon you you'll go back to Germany. Back to the Circus. You miss it too much to remain here."

The way she said it was as a simple statement of fact and although she had obviously tried to keep her voice emotionless a tiny sliver of pain worked itself into her words.

He leapt from his perch with fluid grace and moved over to her.

The light from the setting sun gave her skin a deep glow and painted her hair in shades of gold. Almost without meaning too he gave into the temptation to touch her, first running his fingers gently down her sun-warmed arm then reaching out to encircle her waist with his arms, secretly thrilled with her sharp intake of breath. Carefully he pressed her to turn, to look at him.

"I long for the circus, _ja _that is true. And I would give almost anything to perform again to hear the crowds and know the adoration of the people watching me. Before he let go he leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on her cheek, just the slightest brush of his lips. She reached up to absently stroke his curls, averting her eyes perhaps to try and hide the disappointment, the tragic shadow of need there. Taking hold of her chin he gently titled her head so she was forced to look him in the eyes.

"But I need you; I need you more than anything, even the circus. I will not leave you Ororo."

Then suddenly she was weeping, transformed by those tears from the untouchable Goddess into a tender, heartbreakingly human creature. The watering can clattered from her grip as she threw her arms around him and buried her head in his shoulder.

"Don't cry." he whispered gently, stroking her hair as she hugged him fiercely and the tears streamed down her face.

"I, I can't help it-" the words were bewildered, as if she truly didn't understand why she would cry like this or why she couldn't stop "- I don't want to let go of you."

Gradually he eased her back from him, brushing away the strands of hair that the tears had stuck to her face.

"You don't have to."


End file.
